Of Waffles and Roommates
by modernxxmyth
Summary: In which Mark and Callie have several important moments in the kitchen. Mark/Callie. Based on the promo for 7.09, so be warned. Mallie one-shot.


Loosely based on the promo for 7.09, Slow Night So Long. Mark/Callie. One-shot.

* * *

_**Of Waffles and Roommates **_

Callie had been living with Mark for a grand total of one week, and she was still confused about where he kept everything in his apartment. No matter how many times she had been there, it still perplexed her.

"Mark!" Callie yelled out from the kitchen while riffling through cabinets.

With a large yawn, Mark exited his bedroom, clad in nothing but boxers. He rubbed his eyes. "What, Torres?"

"What did you do with my waffle iron?"

He gestured towards the cabinet. "Bottom left. In the back."

Callie searched through said cabinet until she managed to find it. "Perfect."

"Making waffles?" Mark asked.

Callie nodded. "It sounded good at the time, however this batter took forever. But yes. I am making waffles."

She poured the batter into the waffle iron and waited.

Mark shuffled into the kitchen beside her and grabbed the coffee pot. His bare arm brushed hers. Callie glanced fleetingly at him as he poured himself a cup.

"Want one?" he asked.

She gestured towards the empty cup next to her that she had already finished.

Mark reached around behind her, brushing her back to attain it. The electricity that shot through Callie's body caught her off guard, but she tried not to let it show on her face.

He refilled the mug for her and added just the right amount of cream.

She grinned. "Thanks."

They sat down and ate breakfast together, waffles and coffee.

"We should eat breakfast together more often," Callie stated after taking a sip of her coffee.

Mark grinned at her almost leeringly. "Well, you know, we _could_ arrange for that..."

Callie wadded up her napkin and threw it at him. She laughed. "We should get to the hospital."

* * *

What originally looked like a promising day at work, however, turned into a nightmare.

Getting back to the apartment that night, Callie began riffling through cabinets in the kitchen once more.

Mark chucked. "What do you need now, Torres?"

"Liquor," she replied concisely.

Mark walked over to her, took her hand, and stilled her actions. "Let me get it. Long day?"

Callie nodded. "The longest."

Mark reached into his liquor cabinet, and grabbed a bottle of bourbon and two glasses.

He poured two drinks and passed one to her.

She sipped it slowly. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it. Now, what's going on?"

Callie sighed. "I had a pedes case today. Which, on its own, would have been hard enough, but the new attending is an ass. Have you met him yet? He is such an ass. I don't know what Richard was thinking when he hired him."

Mark frowned. "I haven't met him yet."

"He's an ass."

Mark bit back a smile. "I'll take your word for it."

"Good." Callie took another sip of her drink. "How was your day? I barely saw you."

Mark shrugged. "Alright. Did a breast reduction."

Callie smiled, tight-lipped. "You must hate doing those."

He laughed. "I really do. This one was okay, though. They were giving her trouble with her back. I could hardly blame her."

"I would have done the same if I were her."

"You don't have that problem, though. Your breasts are perfectly proportioned."

Callie snorted. "I'm going to take that as a compliment."

"You should," he grinned. He took another sip of his drink. "You've got good boobs. I mean, I know I haven't seen them in a while, but I remember them well. They are very good boobs."

He glanced down at her chest for a moment, looked back up, and shrugged, a roguish expression on his face.

Callie finished her bourbon. "I've always liked them, I guess."

Mark took a step towards her. "So have I."

He had a glint in his eye that Callie hadn't seen in a long time. Not in years.

Callie smirked. "You're right. You _haven't_ seen them in a while."

Mark took another step towards her, setting his glass down as he approached. "How long has it been, anyway?"

"Hmm," she contemplated the question for a moment. "Two and a half years, or so? Not since before Erica."

"And once during," he corrected her mistake. "Purely for academical research, of course."

"Of course. I had some learning to do." She took a step towards him. "I'm fairly well-versed now, though."

Mark grinned. "I've always prided myself in my teaching abilities."

They were very close together now, mere inches between them.

Mark could feel her breath as she spoke.

"Have you?" Callie asked quietly. "You know…I could always use a refresher course."

Her whispered words were all it took. Mark's lips were on hers in an instant. The kiss was fierce and bruising and so different than any other kiss Callie had experienced in the past few years. It was different, yet familiar in the best possible way. She let out a quiet moan and worked her hand underneath the hem of his shirt. She pulled away for the briefest of moments, just long enough to pull the shirt over his head and toss it on the cool tile floor. She went back in for another kiss, running her hands up and down across the planes of his bare chest.

It was Mark's turn then to quickly remove Callie's shirt. She was left in a fuchsia colored bra and jeans. He kissed her again, Callie smiling against his lips. He ran his hands through her newly-short hair, and removed his lips from hers, instead planting them on her neck.

Callie's breathing hitched. Mark reached around her back and unclasped her bra, tossing it to the ground. He stared at her chest for a moment, the object of conversation just moments before. Grinning, Mark pushed her up against the nearest counter and begun assaulting them with his mouth, being sure to give each equal attention.

Callie let out a moan. She spoke, gasps of pleasure interrupting her speech every few words. "Are we…going to do this…here? Or take this to…your room?"

"We can do this wherever you want, Torres," he muttered against her skin.

At his statement, Callie grabbed Mark's hand and dragged him towards the bedroom.

* * *

Weeks passed, and things continued like this. Slipping back into their friends-with-benefits routine had been easier than either had originally thought. Hang out during the day, spend time together at the hospital, and have mind-blowing sex after a hard day's work. It was easy and simple, and it made sense to them. And it was a hell of a lot of fun.

Neither of them gave things much thought beyond that. Callie wasn't over Arizona, and Mark wasn't over Lexie.

Except that more and more weeks passed, and neither of them had really given much of a thought to Arizona or Lexie in quite a while.

When it came time for Callie to look for a new apartment, she found herself not wanting to look at all.

Mark seemed to feel the same. Or at least Callie assumed, by the fact that the apartment listings were always conspicuously absent by the time Callie got the morning paper.

She even took him with her to go apartment hunting at one point, but he made a point of finding something wrong with each and every place – even if it was as small as not liking the shade of the beige carpet or the lighting being a tad too dim.

More and more time passed. Days turned into weeks, and week turned into months. Before Callie knew it, three months had passed. They had been living together and sleeping together for three months. Callie's room at Mark's apartment remained almost completely unused. They shared the same bed every night. They had sex – and lots of it. But most of all, they simply enjoyed each other's company. They enjoyed each other's company more than they ever had before.

And suddenly one day, Mark realized, Lexie was nothing more than a friend to him. And Arizona was a distant but fond memory to Callie.

It wasn't rebound sex anymore, and they both knew it. It was a _relationship_ – though they didn't dare speak the dreaded word aloud.

* * *

Callie was making waffles for breakfast again, which she hadn't done in several weeks, but it really was becoming their _thing_. The batter took her ages, but the waffles were good, and she couldn't seem to help herself. The waffle iron had never been put to better use, and Mark certainly seemed to enjoy them.

They ate breakfast one Thursday morning, and Callie snatched the newspaper from Mark. She took a bite of her waffle.

"You know," she began, "If you would stop stealing the apartment listings, I may actually be able to get my own place at some point."

Mark frowned. "But I don't want you to get your own place at some point."

Callie cocked an eyebrow. "Ever? You just want me to live here…forever?"

Mark sipped his coffee. "Stop over thinking things, Torres. Are you happy?"

She blinked. "Well, yeah, of course I am, but-"

"So go with it. Don't move out. Stay here. Live with me."

Callie sighed heavily. "But it's so tacky."

"What is?"

"The whole hooking up with your roommate thing."

Mark gaped at her. "I've been giving you great sex for three months, and _now_ you're complaining?"

Callie rolled her eyes. "It's not the sex I'm complaining about. The sex is good. Obviously. It's the whole sexing the _roommate_ thing I can't quite get passed."

"That's all?" Mark asked. "There's an easy solution to that."

Callie poured a little more syrup on her waffle. "There is?"

Mark nodded. "There is."

"And what exactly is that easy solution?"

Mark grinned. "We make this official."

It was Callie's turn to gape. "This?" she gestured between the pair of them. "This as in…us?"

"Yep. As in us. Living with your boyfriend sounds much better than fucking your roommate, don't you think?"

Callie looked startled. "I…um…well, I guess that's true. Yes. That does sound a lot better. And I guess it _is_ kind of already accurate, titles aside…"

"Exactly," Mark's smile was infectious. "Now we just add the titles. Easy fix."

Callie stood up and walked towards him. She kissed Mark thoroughly and smiled in agreement. "Okay. Easy fix."

* * *

Fin.


End file.
